The Murdered Sun - Christie Golden [1]
"Tuvok to Janeway."
Instantly alert, Janeway absently rehung the forgotten garb.
"Janeway here." Her voice was crisp, in control once again, her fleeting depression banished as always before the overwhelming need of performing her duty. "What is it, Mr. Tuvok?"
"I apologize for disturbing you during your off shift, Captain, but we have picked up some signals that are... most interesting.
I suggest you come up to the bridge and examine them for yourself."
Before he had even finished speaking, Janeway had seized one of her uniforms. She laid it on the bed, her long fingers working nimbly to gather up her thick mass of hair, twist it, and pin it into place.
There was no trace of self-pity on her features now.
Her eyes snapped with excitement even as she tried to quell the hope that bubbled within her.
She had not served with the Vulcan this long without learning to decipher the subtle inflections of his almost purring voice. He had at least a dozen different ways of saying interesting, and by the way he'd pronounced it just now, there might be something to look forward to when she reached the bridge.
She forced the excitement out of her own voice as she replied, "I'm on my way."
***
A flash of amber eyes lit with warm amusement. A quick flick of gray tail, the smell of musk, the soft sound of wise feet on green grass.
She had come for him again tonight, and Chakotay, his lids tightly dosed over his rapidly moving eyes, rose in his dream state and followed her silent call.
He rose without moving from the bed, his mind following even as his body slept deeply, restfully. She seemed always to send revitalizing sleep when she came to visit.
He stood, his brown body fit and firm, clothed only in the loincloth of his ancestors, and smiled down with respect and love at the animal spirit who waited for him. Though it was dark in this dreamscape, a verdant forest illuminated only by a quarter moon, Chakotay knew the place well. He could come here by quiet meditation on his own, by day or night, in any season. For tonight's tryst, she had brought him a summer evening, and Chakotay closed his dark eyes and breathed deeply the heady scents of honeysuckle and cool moss, the furry musk of the unseen creatures who shared the realm of the subconscious with him.
It was real, yet it was only in his mind. Janeway had never said anything, but he suspected that she had problems understanding that the animal guides were very real and, at the same time, solely a product of one's inner consciousness. Most who were not of Chakotay's people had problems with that concept. Of all the crew, Chakotay suspected that only Tuvok, the Vulcan, whose own people had spent centuries unlocking the secret powers of the mind, could really understand that the two realities were not diametrically opposed. But then again, Tuvok would never admit to the powerful, primal joy that surged through one who was visited by an animal spirit.
Connections. It was all about connections, with oneself, one's totem, one's people, one's friends, one's world... one's universe.
But right now, with the cool night wind in his face, the wet grass beneath his feet. and his friend waiting for him with her lambent yellow eyes, Chakotay wasn't concerned with connections or concepts.
He just wanted to run. And so he did, his bare feet flying across the grass and stone and leaves without a care, for there was nothing here that would harm him and he knew it. Silent as a shadow, she moderated her swift lope to keep pace with him.
Together, with stars he had seen in no sky outside of his own mind sparkling overhead, they ran. Chakotay's skin began to glisten with sweat and dew. His breathing came hard, but he kept moving, his strong limbs pumping. Laughing kindly, her tongue lolling from her own exertions, she ran with him until at last they came to an open meadow, and Chakotay, gasping for breath, staggered to a halt and collapsed in the welcoming, cooling grass.
He rolled over onto his